


Godspeed, Pilgrim

by FatCatOfficial



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, F/M, Film Major!Josh, Josh-centric, Mental Health Issues, Slow Burn, Very AU, incorrect use of film terminology, why torment your friends when you can just make a movie?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-04-25 02:36:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14369067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FatCatOfficial/pseuds/FatCatOfficial
Summary: Josh has lived, breathed, and eaten Horror movies since his pre-teens. He's snuck into more showings than he has to bars and parties. And he's slept under the watchful mask of Jason Voorhees for most of his young adult life. He even got intoreadingbecause of them. Horror movies are his Thing.So, why the hell is it so hard to write one?-In which Josh gets his shot to direct a horror movie and Struggles.





	1. Prologue: The Greenlight

_**greenlight** or **greenlighting** : a term denoting the 'go-ahead' for a film to be made._

\--

Josh Washington twists the strap of his messenger bag and stares at the name placard next to the closed door, proclaiming ‘Professor Johns’ into the dim lighting of the hallway. 

__

He hesitates. It could also totally be the wrong office. Johns isn’t an uncommon last name. Sure, the little corkboard next to the placard is stuffed to the brim with fliers for film showings and speaker event, but anyone could have that. 

__

The real kicker is the giant poster of John Wayne tacked up on the door that is staring Josh down like its time for a good ol’ western shoot out. Josh definitely feels like he’s about to be riddled with bullets. 

__

What a way to go. 

__

He opens his phone instead of pulling his gun and rereads the message for the millionth time, trying to glean some kind of positive or negative inflection from it. But it’s the same one sentence email every time, asking Josh to stop by office hours to discuss his midterm submission. Josh is no stranger to office hours, but he’s always gone of his own volition, once he figured out professors were usually a lot less scary than they seemed. Plus, they always liked students who came and talked to them, and Josh was nothing if not a talker. 

__

But he’s never been summoned before. And all of this feels like a call back to high school and his super fun meetings with the principal. 

__

Hence: the hemming and hawing in the hallway. He has no idea if the professor was about to skin him alive or accuse him of cheating. Or tell Josh that he found out exactly what had gone down in his freshman year and really didn’t want him anywhere near the other students. 

__

He hoped it was cheating. 

__

Plus, the door is shut, which makes this like, ten times harder than it needs to be. Now he has to turn that stupid doorknob and open the door to his own doom, which is honestly just plain rude. But, on some level, he probably deserves whatever dressing down he’s going to get. The ‘midterm’ part has him nervous too. He had worked really hard on that short film. It was all he thought about for two whole weeks. His stomach lining is still recovering from all the coffee. But maybe his love for certain directors came out too strong and some how he had managed to accidentally plagiarize an entire film. With Josh’s luck, it was totally in the realm of possibility.

__

God, if he thinks about it like that, the possibilities really are endless and he could probably spend the rest of eternity outside of this door running though each scenario and-

__

He readjusts his beanie before anchoring his hands back on his straps. 

__

The sooner he gets this done, the sooner he can wallow. He reaches out a hand.

__

He can totally do this. He’ll open that stupid door. Take whatever the professor has to say to him in stride. Walk out of there. Maybe across town to the station. Catch a train straight into some untamed wilderness and live off the land.

__

Yeah, or he could just skip the first part of that and just get on the train. No, his family would be so disappointed, especially since he’s been holding his shit together for at least a couple months. Well, more like barely duct taped together, but still. He has to do this. For posterity.

__

The second he gets all five of his fingers wrapped around the knob, the door opens and practically pulls him into the office. John Wayne disappears into the void. Josh didn’t even get a “Good luck, pilgrim” in. 

__

“Oh- Joshua!” Professor Johns‘ gray, bushy, Dumbledore eyebrows are up near his hairline, “I thought I heard someone lurking outside.”

__

“Aha, yup, that’s me. You know, a lurker-” He cuts himself off before he can make it worse. 

__

They stand in an awkward silence before Professor Johns waves him in and tells him to take a seat. 

__

“So, I wanted to talk to you about your midterm.” Johns lowers himself into his impressive roll-y chair and leans back, crossing his legs and steepling his fingers. Josh does his best to arrange himself in a way that doesn’t suggest he’s ready to bolt out the door at any second. He makes an interested noise because he’s pretty sure that’s all he’s capable of.

__

“I was very impressed with it. Everything about it was incredibly well done. The script and the shots were-” Johns doesn’t even finish his sentence, just kissing the tips of his fingers like he just had the best pasta of his life.

__

“Bon appetite, huh?” He says. It’s weak but under the circumstances, he thinks he can cut himself some slack. 

__

“Al dente.” 

__

That’s a no to the cheating. Which leaves the worse option.

__

“So.” Johns says, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward. 

__

Oh, here it comes. The “But…”

__

“There’s a film competition in the spring, for college students and other non official studios. And a couple of the other professors and I been bugging the university for years to let us have a grant for it, since we have a good program and a lot of promising students. And, well, this year we got it.”

__

This meeting isn’t adding up for Josh. 

__

“So, I get to pick a student to give my cut of the grant money to.” Johns raises his eyebrows at Josh and-

__

Oh. 

__

_Oh._

__

“-and I picked you. I was going to wait until after I saw your final project, but your midterm short was incredible and I wanted to give you plenty of time to work your magic.”

__

The words are echoing around Josh’s brain, bouncing off of his skull but he still fails to accurately process them in any kind of efficient fashion. 

__

“Oh.” He says, but it comes out as more of a squeak. 

__

\--

__

Josh is still in a daze when he gets back to his apartment. 

__

He makes sure that the door is closed and locked before he drops his bag and his keys on the ground. Then he kicks off his shoes and socks and stands barefoot on the tile for a second, not really sure what to do with himself. The bathroom might be good. It has a sink and a mirror and a toilet. He starts pulling off his clothes as he makes his way to the bathroom. First, his vest. Then his flannel. He reaches up to pull off his beanie, but it must have been dislodged along the way. That’s fine, less clothes the better. 

__

The linoleum of the bathroom is even colder on his toes than the tile in the kitchen, He doesn’t think it’s going too far to check his cute little day of the week pill container because what the fuck. 

__

But there’s only one lone pill left occupying the “Thurday” box. 

__

Which means that his conversation with his professor happened. He sits down on the floor. His phone buzzes in his pocket. It’s another email from Johns, with the festival’s information. This is very real. 

__

He sits down on the floor. This is good. This is the kind of shit he used to daydream about. But it also means responsibility. And reliability. Both of which Josh could be better at. 

__

He stares at the ratty bath matt and tries to weigh the pros and cons of this. 

__

It’s never a _good_ thing when he gets entrusted with anything. But he’s got Johns on his case, so at least he’ll be answering to someone when this all inevitably goes to shit. And he has a budget. A small one, nothing like the ones his dad gets, but still. A _Budget_. Like a real director. 

__

Distantly, he can hear the front door unlocking. Then a thud and Chris swearing up a storm. 

__

“Josh?” 

__

Oh, right. He had left all of his shit strewn about the entryway. 

__

“You better not be having sex with someone right now, Josh, it’s in our roommate agreement!”

__

Josh wants to say something witty, but he's stuck on the whole budget thing. Money meant access to actors, sets, and prop designers. Maybe even special effects and-

__

“Josh?”

__

Chris must follow his trail of personal items to the bathroom because the door opens and hits one of his knees, bouncing back. Chris makes a concerned noise. Josh tears himself away from a particularly nasty bit of rug to look at Chris, who is peaking around the door.

__

“Ever heard of privacy, Christopher?" Josh says, "I’m obviously very busy getting laid right now.”

__

Chris rolls his eyes and opens the door all the way. “You really know how to freak a guy out.”

__

That he does. 

__

“So are you gonna tell me what’s up with the stripping, or are you going to keep being creepy?” Chris says, looming over him. 

__

“Aw, but I do it so well.” 

__

“You really do.” Chris settles in next to him and bumps his shoulder. “Are you gonna tell me what’s up, or are we going to hang out here until our butts get numb just for shits and giggles?”

__

Josh opens his mouth, but he doesn’t even know where to begin. He shows Chris the email instead. 

__

“Okay so,” Chris takes the phone and scrolls, “What am I looking at here?”

__

“A Movie festival. Professor Johns was telling me about it.”

__

Chris hums. “Didn’t you have a meeting or something with him today?”

__

“Yeah.” Oh man, Josh is really going to say it out loud. “He was telling me about this grant that the film department got.”

__

Chris is nodding along, like he still doesn’t get it. Josh looks back to the rug. 

__

“And he gave me a cut of it. To make a film.”

__

It’s quiet and Josh dares to peek at Chris but Chris is already looking at him, jaw dropped. 

__

“Bro.” He turns, grabs Josh by the shoulders and shakes him. “Bro!” 

__

Josh lets himself be shaken for a second before ducking out of Chris’ hold. 

__

“Hey bro, careful with the goods!" Josh cradles his head. "I need this baby in tip top shape, I've got a whole movie to write.”

__

It’s daunting, but even as he says it, he realizes he’s smiling.

__


	2. film within a film

_**film within a film** : a particular story-telling approach, literally, to have one film within another; in some cases, the characters are aware of the 'film-within-a-film,' and break the fourth wall and enter into or interact with it._

\--

Josh has lived, breathed, and eaten Horror since his pre-teens. He’s snuck into more showings than he has bars and parties. Not to mention the fact that he’s slept under the watchful mask of Jason Voorhees for most of his young adult life. He even got into reading because of them. Horror movies are His Thing.

So why the hell is it so hard to write one?

And the movie has to be horror. He had had an errant thought that suggested he branch out, try something a little easier for his first go around. But Josh chased that shit right out of his head with a Jason Voorhees shaped machete. He’s a fucking Washington and he’s going to do Horror. Even if it kills him, which is looking like the most likely possibility. 

Today, he finally forced himself to sit down and write something, anything, to quell the fucking flow and get himself some peace, maybe even sleep. But he can’t pin down anything. He’s used to wanting to fight his brain, but this is uncharted territory. Half of it is pumped full of nervous energy and has been flinging half-baked ideas at him for days. The other half, the one he relies on for rational thought, has actively begun to turn into oatmeal from being overworked and trying to keep his shit straight. He hasn’t been this frustrated since he had to write personal statements for college applications and he’s about ready to chuck himself out of the window. 

He leans back into the couch. Even setting the atmosphere hadn’t worked. His hand picked scary movie soundtrack playlist is still leaking through his shitty computer speakers and the candles he had strategically placed had only gotten more spooky as the sun set. The atmosphere is fucking set and the mood is _there_.

And yet, nothing.

He scrubs his hands through his hair and stares at the white board he had practically torn from the wall of the apartment and dragged to the living room for creative purposes. It has streaks and smudges of all colors from where he had been desperately writing and erasing in an effort to try to keep up with his brain. 

He’s still staring when the couch starts vibrating.

Oh God, he’s really done it this time. He takes in all the mugs scattered around him and can’t remember which ones he used for coffee and which ones were for ice cream. He really hopes they’re mostly from the ice cream.

The spooky soundtracks really aren’t helping and he fumbles with the volume on his computer until he no longer feels like he’s about to be grabbed by an inter-dimensional space clown demon and revels in the silence.

Or, mostly silence.

There’s some acoustic guitar coming from somewhere. It’s muffled but also like its in the room and-

Oh. 

Josh rolls his eyes at himself and digs through the couch. His phone is still ringing when he gets it unearthed from between two couch cushions. Beth’s name is blaring at him from the top of his screen, which isn’t unusual. She’s the only one he knows who still calls people. He teased her about it once and she told him, in a very matter of fact manner, that she didn’t like to give people the opportunity to ignore her. 

So it makes sense that she’s calling, but it’s definitely either really late, or really really early. He squints at the top of his phone, forcing the blur that he knows should say the time to focus into some form of number. 

He’s still working out whether or not is says 12 or 2 when is phone stops vibrating. 

It’s silent for maybe a second before it starts ringing again. He doesn’t waste anytime in contemplation this time. Two times is purposeful and it’s either late or _really_ late and while he’s the stupid one, he knows his sisters can get into shit too.

There’s a burst of commotion when he answers the call, yelling and laughing undercut by a pounding base. 

Ah, the sounds of underage drinking, how Josh has missed thee. 

He can’t help the shit-eating grin that takes over his face. 

“Well, well, well.” He settles in, ready to milk this for all it’s worth, “How the tables have turned.”

“This is literally the worst time for you to be a dickhead.” Beth yells into the phone over the sounds of the party. He can practically smell the cheap beer and weed through the phone. 

“Sounds serious. “ He says, still on the couch.

“Please Josh, you-”

“What?” He leans forward.

“Oh fuck, here take this-” Her voice is far away and tinny.

“No, wait-” Some other girl says, and he’s 90% sure that’s not Hannah.

“Just take the phone. Ask him to pick us up, I need to get Hannah-”

“Who am I even talking to-” 

Yeah, that’s definitely not Hannah. 

“Doesn’t _matter_. ” 

Josh is mildly offended.

“Just be your regular, charming self and it’ll be fine.” Beth again. “If worse comes to worse, just bring up The Tub and tell him we’ll be even.”

Josh flushes, thankful that he’s in the privacy of his own home. He can’t believe she would bring that up to a stranger. But that also doesn’t bode well, because that night had been _bad_ and if Beth is cashing in on this _now_ -

There’s static and commotion from the phone.

“No, Beth _wait_ -” The supposedly charming mystery girl sighs, suddenly much clearer and closer than they had been before and Josh has the mental image of Beth shoving the phone into this poor person’s hands and then disappearing into the fray. It would be funny if he didn’t feel the beginnings of worry seep in.

“Hello?” Charming Mystery Girl is loud and clear now.

“Hey.” Josh says as he gets up from the couch. He’s going either way, but he still needs the address. “So-”

“Hello?” She says again. “Hold on, I can’t hear, let me just-”

It gets loud again and Josh wonders if he should just hang up and start driving. But again, the address. And maybe some background information so he knows what kind of shit his sisters are up to. So he listens patiently as who ever is on the phone makes their way through the party. Finally, there’s a door clicking shut and moderate quiet. He can still hear the beat and people chanting but apparently it’s enough for her so he can make due. 

“Still there?”

“Yup. So,” He says, making his way into the kitchen to look for the keys. “What are you supposed to be charming me into?”

She snorts, “Beth’s under the impression that I can get you to come pick us up from this party.”

“That’s all? I was expecting some last minute male stripping.”

Where the fuck are the keys? He moves back to the living room and starts sticking his hands in the couch cushions.

She barks out a laugh, “Well, we are at a frat house, so I don’t think there’s any shortage of men who are ready to take their clothes off but it’s good to know that’s an on demand skill of yours.”

Great. What older brother doesn’t want to hear that their sisters need to be picked up from a frat house. 

“Only for the truly needy.” His fingers brush something, but it’s just the chocolate bar he lost last week. He shoves it in his back pocket for good measure and keeps looking, “So, frat row, huh? You got some letters for me?”

“Well, there’s definitely a Pi in there somewhere.”

“Great, well are my sisters in a state to leave the house or what?”

That’s definitely the fob of his car keys and he pulls them free from the couch with Excalibur like flair.

“I think so. I can’t tell how drunk Beth is but Hannah’s kind of wasted and may or may not have puked.”

That’s okay, Josh remembers his first frat party too. 

“She’s got Beth hawking around though so I’m sure we’ll be able to get out okay.”

“Alright, good-“

The background noise in the call dies immediately. 

“What the hell?” She whispers, but Josh has been to enough frat parties to know the cops are there. They’re getting rolled and both of his underage sisters will be out roaming the land. 

“The party is getting rolled.”

“-What?” 

He pinches his brow. “The cops are shutting it down, you need to find Hannah and Beth and make sure they don’t do anything stupid.”

“Are you picking us up?” She’s still whispering. 

“Yeah, I will. You’re somewhere on Frat Row, right?”

The background noise picks up again as the people scrambling to leave. 

“Yeah, I’ll see if I can figure out which one we’re at-”

She’s interrupted by some one asking if she’s underage, and then telling her she needs to leave through the backyard when she says yes. 

“Let me know when you find them and get out of the party, I’ll call you when we’re there.” 

“Okay, cool-” 

The call cuts off and he stands in the silence of his kitchen for a moment. There’s some lo-fi hip hop mix thrumming from down the hall, so Josh knows that Chris is still up and working on something. Josh needs back up. And if Chris is working on code, he probably needs a break more than Josh does. At least that’s what Josh tells himself as he jogs down the hallway and bursts through Chris’ door. 

Instead of screaming and yelling like he used to, Chris just peels himself away from the lines of code on his scream and turns to face Josh. Josh would be disappointed in any other circumstance but right now the level headedness is appreciated. But still, Chris looks like a mess, with his glasses askew and his hair sticking up in all directions and even though time is kind of of the essence right now, Josh can’t help himself.

“You look like shit dude.”

Chris maintains his dead eyed stare at Josh.

“You should see yourself.”

Josh matches his stare. He has a pretty good mental image of what he looks like.

“I know you have no concept of time or personal space, so is this just a pleasant middle of the night visit, or did you need something from me?”

“As much as I enjoy our late night rendezvous, Beth just called and they’re at some frat party that just got rolled. You down to make a pick up?” 

Chris looks back at his lines. He stares at them for a few seconds before sighing and standing up.

“Fine, but you’re driving.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what's hard? Writing banter between characters when you're the least witty person you know. So, with that in mind, please let me know if the dialogue is clunky anywhere or totally out of character so I can fix it/be aware of it in the future. Thanks!
> 
> Also, the entirety of this work is going to be in-progress until I hit that complete button so previous, already published chapters might be edited as well, just as a heads up!
> 
> Finally, I'm semi-active on tumblr, so my Until Dawn blog is [here](https://parchmentandpranks.tumblr.com)


	3. snipe

_**Snipe:** any piece of projected footage during (usually prior to) a motion picture feature presentation that is not a trailer or film presentation_

\--

“Jesus, did the cops bust the whole fucking street?” Chris says.

From where they are, Josh is tempted to agree. Their car is an island in a sea of sweaty college students who are migrating across the street in every direction. They amble past the headlights of the car like a herd of drunk deer. The whole scene looks at lot messier than he remembers from when they were freshmen. But, to be fair, they had left almost every party completely wasted and sprinting for the safety of the dorms. There hadn’t been a lot of time or will to take in the scenery. But now, sober and in the sanctity of the car, they are privy to the whole scene with fresh eyes and God, what a fucking mess. 

Chris drums his fingers on the wheel and narrates the struggles of the two shirtless guys. Josh ignores him in favor of letting his eyes bounce from girl to girl, looking for the typical Hannah and Beth stumble, arms slung across each others shoulders and giggling. But there are too many people to keep track of every girl and more keep coming, moving into the street and effectively blocking the car from doing any kind of forward movement. 

Chris leans forward and drapes his arms over the steering wheel.

“Man, this is like, an exodus of drunk people. We’re gonna be here forever.” Chris says. 

This is not good. There’s no way he’s going to be able to pick his sisters out of a crowd like this. He checks his phone again, but his text has still gone unanswered. If Hannah is as drunk as he’s been led to believe, then they’re going to have trouble getting to the car. Josh is suddenly glad that Chris had wrestled the car keys from his hands when he had seen all the coffee cups strewn around the living room. He’s a free agent, able to get out of the car and do some active looking. 

“I’m gonna get out.” Josh says. “You should turn around and hang out on the side street.”

Chris looks like he might argue, but sighs and nods.

“That’s probably best. I might still be here.”

Josh closes the door and slips into the flow of the herd. He bobs and weaves between through the people, diagonally moving until he reaches the edge before doubling back. He pulls out his phone and calls Beth again, focusing on the dial tone as he scans the crowd. 

As he gets closer to the frat houses, he passes by a cop car. The black and white gloss catches his eyes and he has to fight the urge to pull up his hood and duck away. 

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon.” He mutters at the phone.

There are a few more rings before one suddenly cuts off and is replaced by static feedback and a, “Hello?” that sounds like the same girl from before. 

“Where are you?” He asks, tearing his eyes away from the cop car. 

There’s a pause, which doesn’t bode well, before she responds, “In an alley.”

He can’t help the “Oh God” that slips out. 

“Hannah is visibly drunk and we’re not trying to get public intoxication citations.”

“Classy.” He forces it out, “Could you maybe tell me _which_ dark alley you guys are hiding out in so we can get this show on the road?”

“Which alley are we in?” It’s muffled, so Josh knows it’s not for him. 

“Fuck if I know-”

“Fine, just, stay here.” The sounds of his sisters become quieter and quieter. 

“Did you just leave my sisters in an alley, alone?” He slows and glances back towards the cops. There’s one already looking at him. He ducks his head this time and keeps moving.

There’s another one of those pauses, “…Not _really_.”

Josh can practically feel his hair turning gray, “Please tell me you’re with a group of drunk girls you met in the bathroom.”

“I mean we did meet him in the bathroom.”

“ _Him_?” Josh accuses. “Isn’t that like, rule number one for girls?”

“He’s nice! He helped us get out of the house-”

“-and into a dark, creepy alley! Away from civilization! Where no one can hear you scream!”

She’s quiet and Josh thinks that maybe he’s over done it, been too fucking weird and she’s going to hang up and leave the whole Washington family behind for greener pastures. Beth was always saying that he was a big weirdo. 

But instead of the end beep, Josh gets a whispered, “…Shit.” 

He’s torn between fist pumping that she gets his point and being terrified that she gets his point. 

“Okay, okay, where are you?”

Josh turns off frat row and heads deeper into the residential area while he waits for her to figure it out. Staying still seems wrong. 

“Um, let me just-”

He’s approaching the end of a block when someone steps out from around the corner. A short someone who is scanning the street for something.

“I’m not sure.” The girl’s mouth moves in time with the voice coming through his phone. She’s got blond hair pulled up in a bun and definitely looks like she could have come from a party.

He’s very certain that she’s the girl he’s on the phone with. But he’s been walking as he’s been observing and he hasn’t said anything and suddenly he’s close to her, too close and he realizes that maybe he should have said something sooner. 

She whirls to face him and gasps. Her face is flushed from the alcohol and the cold. Josh wants to back up and give her space but he’s caught on the way the yellow light from a streetlamp bounces off the curve of her brow and the round of her cheek. 

He’s going to say something, but she decks him before he gets the chance. 

Stars burst across his vision and he stumbles back.

“ _Shit!_ ” He hisses. He wants to clutch at his cheek and curl in on himself, but he’s scared that if he takes his eye off of her, she’ll hit him again, so he just raises the hand holding his phone in surrender and shrinks away.

He watches as she takes in the phone before looking at him. 

“…please tell me you’re not Hannah and Beth’s brother.” She’s still poised to attack, but her voice is meek.

“You’re not going to punch me again right?” 

“Oh my God.” She looks horrified, but still has a fist up. 

His cheek throbs. Beth would be friends with someone that has a right hook like that. 

“I’m so sorry! I was freaked out because of what you said and then you just came out of nowhere and-”

He’s torn between focusing on the throb in his cheek and parsing together what she’s saying and not getting much of anything done. His brain provides him with the errant thought that she would make a fantastic Final Girl, going for the hit immediately. 

“Just,” He tries to wave away her words with a hand, “Just give me a second, I need to-” He gestures to his face. 

She goes quiet as he prods at his cheek and works his jaw. He hasn’t been punched like that since freshman year and the pain is bright and pin sharp when he touches the skin. 

“Don’t touch it, you’ll just make it worse.” 

Suddenly, she’s next to him, pulling his hand away from his face. He can smell the alcohol on her breath and see it in the flush of her cheeks. 

He wrinkles his nose and leans back to get away from her grabby hands and eau-de-vodka. 

“Is this what you do in your free time? Punch hapless strangers in the face and then boss them around.” 

She pouts and grabs for his hands again. “You’re not hapless or a stranger-”

“Oh, thanks-”

“You’re just creepy-.”

“I am not _creepy_ -”

“Oh really? I’m Hannah and Beth’s brother.” She says in a low pitch voice. “Let me just lay out a scenario where you and your friends get murdered and then loom out of the darkness silently and scare the shit out of you.”

He narrows his eyes. “You’re terrible at impressions.” 

“But you knew it was an impression.” She’s smiling now. 

They stare each other down for a beat before Josh’s phone buzzes in his other hand. It’s a text from Chris, informing him that he’s shared his location with him and will be waiting _”patiently”_.

“Oh, that was smart.” The girl says, looking at the screen.

Josh has to agree. Fucking CS majors and their technology knowledge. If only he had done that _before_ , so Josh’s sisters wouldn’t alone in an alley somewhere and he wouldn’t have been punched in the face. 

He goes to rub at his jaw, but the girl still has a vice grip on his wrist and she tugs his hand away.

“That desperate to hold my hand, huh?” He quips.

“Clearly.” She says, voice dry. 

They stand under the dinky street light, his arm hanging limp in her iron grip and Josh finds himself in his second old-Western standoff. If he wasn’t such a John Wayne fan, he would say this girl’s stare down technique could beat his. But as it stands, she punched him in the face already. He’s not about to concede the greatest showman of all time to her. 

Josh sighs. The coffee is starting to wear off and he’s starting to daydream about his bed. He’s already lost to John Wayne before, so he doesn’t feel too bitter about letting her win.

“Do you remember _which_ dark alley you left my sisters in?” 

“Yup.” She says, turning and pulling him further down the street.

“Can I have my hand back?”

“Nope.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing witty characters is hard and introducing love interests is even harder

**Author's Note:**

> Hey friends! I've taken one english class that masqueraded as a film class so I'm really flying blind here. Sorry for any inaccuracies in the Film Major experience.


End file.
